


PER Project: IMITATIOИ BLACK

by Potter Evans Riddle Project (Natsumiya_Teirin)



Series: PER Project [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Expect eventual tragedy, F/F, F/M, Harry Evans is Harry Potter, Inspired by Natsu-P's SCL/VanaN'Ice Project, James isn't all that great, Lily runs a criminal organization, Lycanthropy is still a thing, M/M, Magical creatures however still exist, Multi, No Voldemort, No Wizarding Magic, Past Rape/Non-con, Science Experiments, Tom is a better person, Vampirism is also a thing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2018-11-16 19:11:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11259180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natsumiya_Teirin/pseuds/Potter%20Evans%20Riddle%20Project
Summary: When everyone around you is full of sin and evil, the most you can do is love them, right?To love and be loved is the one desire they had in common, so to fulfill it and satisfy their greed, they agreed to share him.But they weren't expecting their fairytale life to come to such a tragedy.PER Project- in no particular order:Imitation BlackFate: The Gate of Rebirth (Fate: Unmei no Tobira)The Immoral Memory(Haitoku no Kioku)LovelessXXXArrest RoseRoom 13943 (13943 Goushitsu)Fleeting Moonflower (Setsugetsuka)Le Rouge Est AmorCherry Blossoms Falling -beautifully- (Sakura Mainichiru -Rei-)"To love and be loved- my desire is driving me crazy. Even the sensation of your kiss is an IMITATION. My thoughts grow paralyzed and my conciousness is fading away, so let's let the truth and reality be painted entirely in BLACK."





	1. The Spark of Life, Glimmering Against the Black

_Hoot hoot....hoot..._

The darkness of the forest was a constant force, pressing down around everyone in the village of Hogsmeade. Most nights, when the woods were at their darkest, the villagers would be huddled up in their modest homes, curled up by a very warm, very bright fire. Younger people would try to scare each other with stories of what allegedly lived in the forest.

But not tonight. 

While everyone still stuck close to the inner borders of Hogsmeade, they were outside, and that was enough to count for  _something_ at least. 

Huddled even closer, in the far back of the group, was a midwife and her charge, still very round with pregnancy. The baby was due any day now.

"D-do you think he's dead yet?" 

"I reckon so, dear," the midwife said in a soft, assuring voice, "but still we should wait, at least till dawn." 

The redheaded woman nodded, her hands resting firmly atop her swollen abdomen. 

"Have you decided yet?" 

"Yes. I'm going to keep him myself." This way, he'd at least have her love- everyone else in Hogsmeade frowned upon children like this one, born out of unrequited love or, worse still, lust, and likely to harbor either the victim's resentment or the assailant's wickedness. 

The midwife's lips curled into a smile.

"You truly are kind, Lily." 

The younger woman said nothing, and instead hissed as she felt her water break. The midwife looked at her knowingly.

"Aye!" The gathering of people looked at her. "The child's coming now!" Then, with not a word more, the middle-aged woman supported the trembling Lily and guided her to her house, closest to where they were. 

* * *

The piercing cry of a newborn boy split the air of the cozy hut. The midwife was quick to cut the umbilical cord and wash the baby, and even quicker to wrap him in a pink cotton blanket and place him in his mother's arms. 

"Such a lovely child..." Lily cooed, looking down into her son's bright eyes which mirrored her own. "My lovely son..."

"Have you named him?" The midwife asked as she began cleaning her tools.

"Yes," Lily said with a nod. Her son had settled and was now just looking around, his eyes wide and curious.

"I'll name him Hadrian, after my uncle, and James after my grandfather."

* * *

In the years that followed, Hadrian- Harry, the villagers called him- proved to be nothing at all like the exiled James Potter who'd contributed in his conception.

  Where James was often angry, Harry was usually very calm. Where James loved playing cruel, oftentimes hurtful pranks, Harry was always considerate of others, and the rudest thing he did was pick a flower from Mrs. Tonks's flowerbox to give to Mrs. Malfoy- and even that was "because she looked sad and mummy says flowers make everyone happy". 

Most importantly, though; when James went to the forest every night to pick fights with its inhabitants, Harry only ever went during the day, to pick herbs that he could sell to Mrs. Longbottom or Mr. Snape for their healing teas and poultices. 

And even though his mother often asked him not to, this was the one thing he continued to do anyway. It was the only way he could get money for her, after all, and it seemed to be working fine.

Or at least, it did until winter.

Of course, winter was always difficult, but this year- the winter after his eleventh birthday- was especially hard. It was longer, lasting all through March and stopping April 4th. 

Because of all the snow that'd piled up, food was a bit more scarce, and thus, more expensive. On top of that, however, Lily fell ill with a fever, so she and Harry had to spend extra money on medicine. 

And so, when the snow  _finally_ melted away, their funds were low enough to cause concern. 

Lily, who'd been doing various odd jobs to earn money before, grew desparate for the funds necessary to take care of her son, and began sneaking out at night to do only she knew what.

In the meantime, Harry continued selling the herbs he'd gathered- which, due to a generous amount of luck, were usually rare ones he'd just stumbled across laying by the entrance of the forest just outside Hogsmeade- and when he wasn't doing that, he took to dancing in the street.

Often his dances were just improvised movements flowing along with his friend Neville's flute, and he ended up dressing as a girl, too, hoping that if he looked like a cute girl, people would be more likely to give him money. 

Slowly, very slowly, Harry and Lily were raising their funds to what they'd been the previous autumn. 

And this is where our story truly begins- on a late spring day, just after noon, in the village square where the mayor and townspeople had come to an unwittingly unanimous decision to take lunch outside and admire the delicate, decidedly  _sin-less_ dancing boy.


	2. The Dancer In the Dark

     The village of Hogsmeade, by this point, had expanded greatly, and was divided into four neatly organized districts, each governed by their own heads, and those heads, in turn, were carefully watched by the mayor, who ultimately obeyed the king of Hogwarts.

  
Godric Gryffindor was the head of the Gryffindor district to the northwest. This district was where citizens lived who didn’t own a shop, or else didn’t hold a job that required them to live close to their workplace. This was also where the sheriff's office was, right beside the prison.

  
Slytherin district was right beside Gryffindor. Ruled by Salazar Slytherin, this district was where one could find various antique shops and apothecaries. There were a few restaurants as well, and a small library.

  
Ravenclaw district was to the southeast, right below Slytherin. The head, Rowena Ravenclaw, prided knowledge over all else, so this district was where the school was located, along with the main library, and a couple artisan shops where one could find jewelry and silverware and fine-crafted dishes.

  
Hufflepuff district neighbored Ravenclaw, and was thus right below Gryffindor. Helga Hufflepuff, who ruled it, was a very caring and motherly individual, so in her district, there were many restaurants and shops selling everything one could think of. There was also an orphanage, but since the entire village helped to raise any parentless children anyway, it was never used, and seen as little more than a precautionary measure for when the population grew. There were also a few doctors here.

  
These four districts met at the center of Hogsmeade, at a large fountain. Once a month, the district heads would meet here to confer with the mayor- who traditionally lived at the edge of Gryffindor closest to the fountain- and get his advice on matters they couldn’t work out on their own.

  
And once every few years, as decreed in the Hogwarts constitution, the king of Hogwarts would also attend, to meet with the mayor and check on things, and forcefully impeach and reassign a new mayor if the current one was doing poorly.

  
And on this day- the day a village took lunch outside, and a boy decided to dance to help his mother- mayor Albus Dumbledore was to hold one such meeting with his four district heads as well as King Thomas Riddle II.

* * *

  
  
The black carriage trailed into the village and stopped before the mayor's house just a little past noon. 

Tom, as he preferred to be called (if only so his citizens wouldn't be so guarded around him) stepped out, dressed in black clothing with silver accents. He also wore a luxurious green spring cloak, lined with silver fabric. Upon his head was the heavy, extravagantly decorated crown all kings wore. Combined with his naturally guarded, unimpressed expression, the young king of Hogwarts was an imposing figure.

  
He brushed aside his attendant- honestly what was his mother thinking, hiring a dwarf with a pathetic name like _Kreacher_ to be his personal attendant?- and sharply rapped his white-gloved knuckles against the light oaken door.

  
It opened almost as soon as he put his hand down, to reveal Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore in all his twinkly-eyed glory.   
"Your Majesty," he greeted with a slight bow of his head, "What a pleasant surprise for you to be here on this day."

  
Tom hummed uncaringly, so Albus continued, "I was planning on holding the meeting outside in the square. I trust that is acceptable?"

  
Tom nodded, his face betraying nothing, and said simply, "That's fine," then stepped aside so the aged mayor could exit.

  
Albus led him to the village square where, a few meters from the fountain, someone had brought out a large picnic table. There were six seats, four of them already occupied. But the four district heads were all focused on what appeared to be a young girl dancing quickly right in front of the fountain while a chubby blond boy sat on the edge playing a flute.

  
Tom watched- just to see exactly what had them so riveted- and was, for just a moment, taken aback. The girl was not dancing any dance he was familiar with, and yet, as she hopped and twirled in such an arrhythmic way, she did so with the grace and confidence of one who knew exactly what they were doing.

  
Tom heard Albus shuffle to his seat and forced himself to remember why he'd come. He took his own seat at the head of the table, and the four district heads snapped their focus to him. The plump blonde woman flushed in embarrassment while the ginger looked sheepish.

  
Albus chuckled.

  
"Now then, as you can see, we have a _very_ special guest in our midst..."

* * *

  
  
The meeting was dull, and not even Albus, in his attempts to make it sound entertaining or at least interesting, was able to remedy that. More than once, Tom found his eyes wandering to the dancing girl by the fountain- and once or twice down to the cookie tin on the edge of the fountain, where he'd caught a young couple tossing in a few coins.

  
 _She must not have much money,_ he concluded, _and for one who dances like that, untrained- perhaps- and fragile, I refuse to allow it._ Or at least, that was what he told himself. Really, she just looked pretty and he wanted an excuse to gaze upon her face whenever he pleased.

  
"-and with that, I call this meeting to an end." 

There were a couple relieved sighs- from Helga and Godric- and a tired slump in Salazar's shoulders. Rowena looked at the three of them disapprovingly, then quickly got up and began making her way to the fountain. The black haired woman reached into her purse and drew out a small handful of coins, and what looked like a small wrapped sweet, and then carefully placed them in the tin before walking off.

  
Salazar stared, and Tom couldn’t quite read his expression. Helga chuckled.

  
"You certainly look surprised, Salazar. Did you think Rowena was some sort of heartless witch?"

  
"I wouldn’t blame you if you did, mate," Godric cut in, "rare that anyone sees her outside of her library, let alone giving sweets to young lads."

  
"I was thinking nothing of the sort!" Salazar protested.

Helga returned her attention to the dancing girl with a kind smile. "Perhaps she just feels it necessary to reward young Hadrian for his hard work. It's not every day you see a boy willing to dress in drag for his mother."

  
"I suppose..." Salazar agreed contemplatively. Godric scowled in mock indignation.   
"Hmph. And here I was thinking she actually liked children. Thank you kindly for ruining my delusions."

  
Tom heard all of this, but it was just mindless drivel as far as he was concerned. Although, what Helga said was somewhat intriguing.  
"You mean to say," he cut in, "that there is a young _boy_ beneath that dress." It was more of a question than a statement- not that either of those three could really tell.

  
Helga nodded her head.

  
"Yes, your majesty," her voice turned sympathetic, "you see, Hadrian James Evans- that's our dancer's name- has only his mother for support, and they've been struggling since winter, so Hadrian's been entertaining everyone with his dancing so he could earn more money for his mum."   
"I see."

_That shows dedication. Furthermore, that shows the boy is still somewhat malnourished, to have such a feminine figure._

  
Vaguely aware of his actions but choosing not to stop himself, Tom inched closer. He could hear Helga, Godric, and Salazar begin to depart towards their respective districts and felt bold enough to get even closer to the dancing boy.

  
He waited for a pause in the boy's movements- for something to indicate exhaustion. It only took a few minutes.

  
"You there!" A few heads turned. "Hadrian, I presume!"

  
The dancer came to a stoo and curtseyed before him- as one aught to do in a dress, male or not.

  
"I am he, your majesty. How may I be of service?"

  
Polite and- outwardly, at least- eager to serve. Good qualities for anyone to have under him.   
Tom bent down a little to get a better look at the boy, and silently marveled over how green and bright his eyes were- why, there wasn’t even a word to describe such a shade of green!

  
He hesitated for just a split second.  
"Young Hadrian...you do not appear to be in the best of financial states. Is this so?"

  
Hadrian nodded his head with a heavy air about him. Was it shame? Reluctance? He knew not.

  
"Yes, my king. It is so."

  
"I see...and how many summers are you?"

  
"Eleven, your majesty- this'll be my twelfth."

  
"I see...."

  
_I was right, then. No eleven-year old boy should be that thin and bony._

  
"Well then, Hadrian," he said at last, "You may not be aware of this, but most boys your age are not so thin as to be able to dress well in women's clothing," he said, his voice stern and decisive, "and as such, that means your mother is not taking care of you as well as she should."

  
For just a second, Hadrian looked like he was going to interrupt, but appeared to have thought better of it.

  
"As your king," Tom continued, "I refuse to accept this. You shall have a fortnight to say your goodbyes and gather up whatever you deem necessary, and starting then, you shall live with me."

  
Again, Hadrian looked as if he was going to protest, but Tom kept his voice firm, leaving no room for argument.

  
"My mother shall look after you as if you were her own son, and you shall never want for anything. You will never go hungry, or without anything- whatever that may entail. I shall give you all that you ask while you are under my care, and you will be my surrogate brother."  _At least for now._

  
He took a moment to observe Hadrian's awestruck expression before closing off with a demand thinly veiled as a question.

  
"I trust this will be acceptable?"

 


	3. A Coincidental Meeting In Darkness

That night, Harry kept silent on what Tom had more or less ordered him to do. Like all things in his life lately- or so it seemed- this was for his mother's benefit- both his leaving and his silence.

  
Lily Marie Evans had no love for King Thomas II, mostly due to his sire's actions. She'd been steadily waiting all these years for the other shoe to drop, for him to follow in his father's footsteps and commit some vile, heinous deed, despite having no evidence to even hint that such a thing would ever happen. If he told her of His Majesty's generosity towards him, she'd only see it as a cleverly disguised demon attempting to steal him away, and would thus worry about him even more than if he'd disappeared without any warning.

  
And yet, even though he knew it was for the best, the guilt over it kept him awake long after his mother had left the house.

  
Slightly annoyed in his inability to sleep peacefully tonight, Harry climbed out of bed and grabbed his spring cloak, figuring a walk would help ease his nerves, if nothing else.  
Even though it was dark, and the forest was as dangerous as ever, there were guards- both local officers like Alastor Moody and palace soldiers like Captain Scrimegour- so he figured he'd be fine.

  
He opened the door to the hut and quietly exited. The moon was half-full tonight, but it still shone brightly atop the cobblestoned streets.

  
Harry wasn’t too concerned about where he was headed- he just wanted to be out doing something to exhaust himself. So when his feet led him to the forest entrance, he supposed he shouldn't have been surprised. During the day, the sounds of the forest were always able to calm him down and ease him out of his bustling, busy life.

  
_I shouldn’t be here right now though. The woods are dangerous at night._

  
Not that he'd ever been in there at night.

  
But.....

  
_Officer Shacklebolt is close by. And if I don't go too deep- just past the tree line, maybe- then..._

  
He took a cautious step into the forest. His steps were shaky, like those of a newborn fawn, except it wasn’t a matter of coordination- it was a matter of worry.

  
Slowly, he took another step, one foot in front of the other, growing just a tiny bit more confident with each soft damp crunch of his bare feet on the forest floor. 

  
And then, once he was a good way into the forest- far enough to not be bothered, but still close enough to still be able to see the village through the trees- he stopped to take in the various sounds of the nocturnal creatures.

  
The owls hooted. The crickets chirped. And in the bushes, something growled.

  
There was a rustle.

  
Harry tensed up. Of course his guard would be forced up just as he was finally getting relaxed.

  
Sweating nervously, Harry backed away slowly towards the village as something came out of the shrubbery.

  
A man with messy black hair, like his, but he was dressed in various furs instead of the cotton and wool clothes the townspeople wore, and his eyes were different. Furthermore, this man had a decidedly wild, predatory aura around him.

  
For a tense moment- a tense one minute and thirty seconds- they stared at each other, the boy and the man.

  
The man broke the silence first.

  
"...Lily...? Is that...but...oh God...Lily..."

  
Harry backed away further, his hands held up defensively.

  
"Lily? Um-I beg your pardon, sir, but, um, I'm not- that is-"

  
The man who looked so much like him stepped closer, matching his backward paces perfectly.

  
"Lily's my mother!"

Harry blurted out. The man stopped completely.

  
"She is...? Then that means...but..."

  
Using his confusion to his advantage, Harry didn’t bother to stick around and explain, choosing instead to turn and run back to Hogsmeade.

  
The strange man didn’t follow after him. In his head, he saw only the bright green eyes he'd fallen in love with. So what if Lily hated him? Maybe, just maybe, God finally took pity on him and sent him this boy with Lily's eyes so he could perchance stare into them again.

And so, for the first time in eleven years, James Potter felt hope.

 


	4. The Memory Of a Shadowy Haze

Harry ran home quickly, taking a longer route than normal just in case he'd been followed. A small part of him chortled that Alastor would be proud, but he ignored it.

  
Of course, he still left the door unlocked when he returned home- it would look strange if he suddenly locked it when before there'd never been a reason to, and besides that, how else would his mother get inside when she came back from her nighttime venture?

  
And yet, despite the paranoia streaming through his very veins, his body was tired enough from the run that he fell asleep quickly.

  
When he woke up, the sun was high in the sky, but not enough for it to be noon. His mother was snoring softly beside him.

  
_It seems she returned home especially late last night, otherwise she'd be up by now...I think I'll let her rest a bit more while I grab breakfast_ , Harry decided as he slid out of bed, _I earned enough yesterday to afford it._  
He quickly and quietly- so as not to accidentally wake his mother- got dressed for the day, in a simple cherry-blossom-pink sundress (after he'd borrowed one of his mother's old dresses for his dancing, she bought him a few new ones, and dresses, he'd found, were actually very comfortable and certainly cooler than typical men's clothes) and slipped into a pair of white sandals which were somewhat worn and, after tossing on an off-white spring cloak, more to protect his arms from the sun than anything else, he walked outside.

  
As was previously mentioned, Hufflepuff district, where most restaurants and bakeries were located, was just south of Gryffindor, so it didn’t take very long for Harry to get there.  
But the various scents from the many eateries made it hard to choose exactly where he wanted to go. The Three Broomsticks always had good food, but so did The Leaky Cauldron. Madame Puddifoot's was also good...

  
Ultimately, he decided to head towards a smaller place called The Hogwarts Kitchen. Many dishes there were traditional things dating from many centuries back, and the staff were affectionately called House-Elves, due to their eagerness to serve and serve well resembling the attitudes of the mythological creatures, passed down through countless generations. There were so many stories revolving around so many different elves, the staff members had even adopted different names for themselves.  
Harry entered and was immediately accosted by a small, pale-skinned figure.

  
"Master Harry Evvie Sir! Dobby has been missing you greatly!"

  
Harry blushed lightly at the unprofessional display and gingerly pried Dobby off him.

  
"I missed you too, Dobby, but I'm afraid I can't stay here very long. I need to get breakfast for myself and my mum, and then I'd better leave."

  
Dobby frowned, the wrinkles on his forehead deepening as he scrunched his brow.

  
"Very well Master Evvie sir! Dobby will has Winky take your breakfast wants!"

  
With that, Dobby scurried off, and a few minutes later, another House-Elf appeared, also short, but taller than Dobby, with her hair wrapped neatly in a dark red scarf.

  
"Winky be taking Master Harry's orders!" She declared.

  
Harry scratched his head as she led him to the menu-post (which was just a stake with the menu, written boldly on parchment with accompanying pictures, pinned to it) and then surveyed his options.

  
He decided on a medium bowl of pottage for himself and his mother to split, along with two slices of treacle tart for afterwards.  
He pointed, since he'd never been taught how to read (the schoolhouse was established only recently, after all, along with the districts- though the mayoral system had been in place long before), and Winky, named after the elf who risked prison to protect her master, bowed deeply.

  
"Aye, Winky be's go getting it for master Harry!"

  
She waddled back to the kitchen, and Harry settled himself by the door to wait. As he waited, he let his mind wander.

  
He knew the story of his conception- of how James Potter, in his arrogant sense of entitlement, had raped Lily Evans, and how she'd chosen to birth the resulting child anyway. He knew that James had been exiled into the woods the night of his birth. So it was entirely possible that he'd been the man in the woods last night, but...

  
_He looked too young. Mum has streaks of grey in her hair now, so surely he should've had them, too. But he didn’t. So...who was he?_


	5. Answers Brought Out From the Dark

That night, Harry returned to the forest. It wasn’t smart by any definition of the word, especially given how terrified he was the previous night, but he had to know who that man was! 

His sandaled feet crunched against the dry leaves and twigs, and not for the first time, he wondered if this was a good idea. He ran a hand down his thigh and traced the outline of the knife holstered there beneath his dress. This wasn’t smart, probably wasn’t even safe, and he was deep enough now that only if someone were right at the forest entrance, they'd be able to hear him scream. But he brought a knife, and he made sure to keep track of the route he'd taken. He was sure he'd be fine, and if he was wrong...he turned his thoughts away from that. 

He stopped in a relatively open area and sat on a conveniently placed log.

Then, he waited. 

There was a rustling of bushes and shrubbery as whatever- or whoever- had been following him made themselves known. A head of wildly unkempt hair came first, followed by the same fur-clothed body from last night. 

"You know, the forest is a dangerous place at night, especially for a little wisp of a thing like you."

He stepped closer, his mouth set in an almost predatory smirk. 

"The big bad wolf comes out at night. I hear he likes to eat cute girls." 

Harry smiled, the perfect picture of confidence.

"I know." Harry kept his face neutral, confident, and continued, not beating around the bush. 

"Are you James Potter?" 

The savage-looking man changed his smirk to a frown. 

"So, Lils told you about me, then."

Harry nodded, and he continued in an almost but not quite nonchalant tone, "yeah, I'm James Potter. Why d'you wanna know?" 

Harry shrugged.

"No important reason, I suppose. I just remembered what she told me and wanted to confirm my suspicion. However," he hesitated a split second before continuing, "if you are James Potter, why haven’t you shown signs of aging like my mum?" 

James seemed to be thinking hard about his response, as it took him a couple moments to answer. "Well... that's...kind of a long story- one that I absolutely won't tell you because if the people know they'll actually make an effort to kill me themselves." 

Harry blinked, a little confused. "Are you a vampire or something ridiculous like that?"   
"....something ridiculous like that," James

said eventually. "Right, so, you know about me now, but I don't really know anything about you. So, who are you?" 

"Hadrian James Evans, son and psuedo-daughter of Lily Marie Evans." 

"That...tells me nothing except that you may or may not have a crossdressing fetish. Tell me something else." 

Harry hesitated, trying to think, and came up with nothing he deemed interesting enough to share (though it probably didn’t matter because it wasn’t like James could really do anything with what he'd already given). 

"Well.....what else would you have me tell you?" 

The man hummed thoughtfully.

"Hmmmmm....what is your favorite color?" 

"Green."

"Oh? Why is that?"

"Well, why not? It's the color of nature, fertility, and healing. The color of spring." 

"That's an interesting way to see it. You know, green is also my favorite color," James said. 

"Oh? Why is that?" Harry echoed. 

"Because green is also the color of rebirth- a color of second chances." 

"...oh."

James chuckled and laid down so his mane of hair was burying Harry's feet. 

"What's your favorite food?"

"Treacle tart." 

"Really? That's mine, too!" 

And they went on like this for quite some time, until Harry realized he should probably return home before Lily started worrying about him. 

He stood, slowly so James had a chance to move his head, and brushed a few specks of dirt off his dress. He looked to the sky and noticed it was a bit lighter- not quite dawn, but certainly close. 

"I'd...better get going."  
James had a sort of reluctant look on his face- as if he didn't want him to leave, or else was sorry for having kept him out so long. Harry found himself not quite wanting to leave, either, but rather than admit that, he gave the man- his father, but not close enough for either of them to really admit it-  an easy grin. 

"You'll be here tomorrow night, won't you?" 

And he must've seen the promise there, because his sorry expression lifted and became a smile identical to his. "Of course, pup! I'll be here whenever you need me! Now go on- get back to your mum." He made a playful shooing motion with his hands, and Harry laughed as he went along and exited the forest. 

This hadn’t turned out quite how he'd expected, but it wasn’t something he'd complain about.

* * *

Harry quietly snuck in through the front door. The house was quiet, so mum must've not returned yet. With a slight bit of guilt and a greater bit of joy that he didn’t have to explain what he was doing- at least, not yet- Harry slipped out of his clothes and replaced them with a nightgown before crawling into bed. 

He fell asleep, and dreamed of a great dark wolf watching over a small village from the trees which surrounded it. 

In five days, he would be leaving.

* * *

Lily crept in through the front door, quiet as a mouse in case her son had returned home while she was out. She held a handful of gold coins. 

Hearing her son's light snores coming from their cot, she tiptoed past and into the kitchen area, separated by a relatively thick curtain that'd taken months to sew, and deposited her steal into the mostly empty icebox, beneath the two slabs of wild boar she'd bought a couple days ago that'd been shoved into a lower compartment meant specifically for meats. She'd need to cook those, soon, and then find something to replace them- probably deer, or something else she could get dirt cheap, to avoid suspicion (since boar wasn’t exactly cheap right now). 

Her duty done, Lily returned to the living area and crawled into bed beside her son. She'd ask him why he'd been out so late after breakfast.

* * *

When Lily woke up, probably half an hour before noon, Harry was still asleep, and his cheeks were a bit flushed. She felt his forehead with the back of her hand. He felt warmer than he should've, but not enough to be worrying too much. 

She began preparing a stew for him anyway, just in case, using the meat from the meat compartment in the icebox. 

She piled in plenty of sliced carrots and chopped onions, and then returned to the living area to check on her son.

He was already awake, and had apparently changed clothes before climbing back into bed. He was now dressed in a peach colored shift with a tiny bow on the chest. Clearly, he had no intentions of going out, but that was fine. Lily wouldn't have let him out until his fever, however light, was completely gone anyway. 

He was sitting up, the blankets pooled around his knees, his eyes looking at her, but not quite all there. 

"How are you feeling, love?" She kept her voice soft, just in case his hearing had been affected.

"I'm...mmm...I've been...better. I think...I have a fever...or something." His thoughts were at least a little sluggish, but it wasn’t anything some broth and bedrest couldn’t fix. 

"Okay, dear. Just lay down and sleep. I'm making a nice stew right now, and you can try eating some later." 

"Mm..? Ah...alright mum..." 

He laid down and made a haphazard attempt to pull the blanket up. With a fond chuckle, Lily strode over, still holding the ladle she'd been using, and with her free hand, pulled the blanket up to his chin. He snuggled into the pillow and quickly fell back asleep.

With an adoring smile, Lily kissed the crown of his head and then returned to the kitchen, adding a bit more water to the pot so her stew was more soup-like. As she stirred in the extra water, her left hand moved to where she kept her herbs. She found a sprig of mint and pushed it aside, then turned away from the pot to better find what she was looking for.

Basil...oregano...cilantro...thyme...saffron...coriander... 

She sighed, realizing she'd have to go out and get more Rosemary. 

She took the pot off the stove and then threw on her cloak- a lovely maroon thing she'd gotten as a gift from her mother Marigold to celebrate her motherhood. She'd kept it in good condition, and even now, eleven years later, it had yet to fray. 

With one last glance at her sleeping son, Lily exited the house, shutting and locking the door behind her. While there was hardly a need for such caution, she knew it was better to be safe than sorry, especially since her beloved son was ill. 


End file.
